


A Friend in Need

by Elennare



Category: Yogscast "High Rollers" D&D Campaign
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, platonic wing grooming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elennare/pseuds/Elennare
Summary: Quill and Sentry, on the road together.





	A Friend in Need

“I hate mud,” Quill grumbles, trying to plant his staff firmly enough in the ground to pull himself upright. In the thick, clinging mud, though, he can’t get enough leverage, the staff slipping around so much he’s sure he’ll just go flat on his face again if he tries to put his weight on it.

“I think this shortcut may have been a bad idea, I’m sorry,” Sentry says, also trying and failing to stand up. She seems to have landed in a particularly deep bit, and can’t find enough purchase to scramble out, her own weight sinking her further in.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean - I wasn’t blaming you, I thought it was a good idea too,” Quill answers, stumbling over his words in his haste to reassure his new friend. “Here, take my staff, that might help?” If Sentry can use it to pull herself out, he thinks, she’ll be able to help him up far more easily than he could help her.

Reaching out as far as she can, Sentry just manages to take it from him. It is easier with the staff; using it to probe the swamp around her, she’s finally able to find solid enough ground to hold her as she pulls herself to her feet. Squelching through the mud, she makes her way to Quill and helps him up too, then returns his staff. 

“I really am sorry we ended up in this,” she apologizes again.

“It’s not your fault,” Quill says, shaking his head. “I think that’s the worst of it, anyway, and we’re at the bottom of the hill, at least! That river we saw from the top can’t be far, we can clean up there, and it looks like this path should lead us straight to it.”

Slowly, they start moving along the trail again, Sentry close beside Quill. The woods are thick down here, and they can’t see far ahead, but she trusts his sense of direction. At least it’s fairly flat, unlike the muddy slope behind them. From the top of the hill it had looked like a reasonable, if little-used, path, that cut off a long winding loop of the road; but it had gradually grown more and more steep and slippery until they both found themselves sliding down helplessly, to land in the small swamp at the bottom. As they keep walking, the ground dries out, and they pick up the pace, both keen to get to the river. Before too long, first Quill and then Sentry can hear running water. They hurry along through the trees, emerging at last back on to the main road they had been following until their ill-fated shortcut. And not far beyond the road, the river winds its way, just visible through the woods.

Crossing the road, they make their way through the narrow belt of woodland to the edge of the river. Sentry’s ready to plunge in right away, eager to be rid of the sticky mud; but when Quill pauses to look both ways along the banks, she waits too. They’ve only been travelling together a short time, but she’s already learnt to value Quill’s sharp eyes and watchfulness. 

“Oh good, look, there’s a beach there,” Quill says, pointing a little further along, to a point where the river makes a lazy loop and sand has gathered on the inner curve. 

“It’ll be a good place to sit and dry in the sun,” Sentry replies, and Quill realises she’s misunderstood him.

“I mean, I guess, but that’s not what - Aarakocra, we take dust baths, we don’t swim - well, not my kind of Aarakocra at least - do Guardians swim?”

“Not really swim, we’re not buoyant enough, we just sink,” Sentry says, and - as Quill looks at her in alarm - adds, “It’s fine, we don’t need to breathe!”

Quill laughs, relaxing, and they walk on to the little beach. Quill pulls off his bag and drops it to the side, and Sentry places her shield and axe next to it. 

“I can wash your cloak and tunic, if you want,” Sentry offers, as she unfastens her own cloak. “I’m going into the water anyway.” 

She hopes he’ll agree, won’t question what she’s said too much. It’s true that she’s going into the river and he isn’t, but… Quill doesn’t like to say much about his lost wing, but she knows it’s recent. She managed to convince him to let her help with it, both of them pouring what healing magic they have into the scars that were so very fresh when they met; but even before he showed her the injury, she had guessed it, from how often he seemed to be trying to use a wing that’s no longer there, from the pain in his eyes when she asked. And maybe he could wash his clothes himself, but the water seems fast, and Sentry worries. Sentry was made to help people, and she wants to help Quill. She needs to help the only friend she has in this strange new world he’s woken her into.

“I don’t know… that doesn’t seem fair…” Quill hesitates, but then an idea strikes him. “Oh! I have a spell that lets me make gusts of wind, I can use it to dry our clothes more quickly. I think that’s fair, if you wash them and I dry them?”

“That sounds very fair!” Sentry smiles, relieved, and holds out her hands for his things, before he can change his mind.

Quill’s hand hovers for a second over the clasp of his cloak, even though Sentry has seen him without it before. It’s not so much about Sentry seeing it, really, as just steeling himself to deal with it. At least the wounds are fully closed now… the lightning itself had cauterized most of it, but it’s still taken days of both he and Sentry working on it to heal it properly (or as properly as they can… Quill doesn’t think he can call it properly healed when there’s no wing there any more, just scars). Grimacing, he unfastens the cloak and hands it over, then adds his tunic. 

Taking them, Sentry smiles at him again, then strides into the water. It seems to go deep quickly; in only a few steps, she’s vanished under the surface completely, and Quill has to remind himself that she can’t drown. As if she could hear his anxiety, Sentry’s head reemerges, and she waves at him. 

“The water’s lovely! I hope the sand is too!” she calls across to him. 

Reassured, Quill drops down onto the beach, and starts tossing sand over himself. This feels nice… It’s been… well, it’s been since before the Valley, he hasn’t had a proper dust bath since he was struck from the sky. He was worried about infection, especially at first, and then there’s just been so much going on, finding Sentry, working out where to go next… He settles into it, concentrating on working the fine sand thoroughly through his feathers.

Meanwhile, Sentry sinks back underwater, rinsing the mud off her faceplate and out of the vines that grow from her head, before heading back to the shallows to deal with their clothes. Her tabard and Quill’s tunic aren’t too bad, and she makes quick work of them. Their cloaks, which took the brunt of that muddy slide, are another matter - Sentry does her best, but really they’ll have to wash them again with soap and hot water once they reach a town.

Finally clean herself, and deciding she’s done as much as she can with the cloaks, Sentry turns to step out, then stops, catching sight of Quill. She’d been able to hear him flapping around somewhere behind her, but she’d assumed it was just part of however a dust bath worked. Now, though, she’s not sure. He’s twisted around, and seems to be trying to reach the back of his wing with his beak to smooth out the feathers… That doesn’t look comfortable. 

“Quill?” she says softly.

Quill starts at her voice. For the last few minutes, he’s been discovering just how hard it is to properly preen his feathers with only one hand. It can’t be impossible, surely, birds manage it with no hands, after all! But no matter how he contorts his neck and his wing, he just can’t quite seem to reach some parts. He’d almost forgotten Sentry was there in his frustration. 

“Oh, is everything ready for drying?” he asks quickly, hoping to distract her. “I think… maybe if you hold them out one thing at a time? And that way I can dry you too.” Perhaps casting Gust will help smooth his feathers, he thinks, the magical wind pulling them into place.

Sentry looks almost surprised at the question for a moment, and Quill winces, guessing she realised he was struggling. But then her expression clears and she nods, walking over.

“That could work… Or I have some rope, we can tie it between two trees and hang everything up, that’s probably easier,” she says, which Quill has to admit sounds a lot more sensible than turning a Guardian into a clothesline.

It takes Quill some trial and error to find the strength to put into the spell, so he’s neither sending everything flying (Sentry only just stops her tabard from careening away) nor barely stirring the cloth. It’s also rather less effective than he’d anticipated; while Sentry is fairly dry after a couple of minutes, between the magical wind and the hot sun, their clothes are going to take a while. 

“Let’s take a break,” he finally says, when his wing is beginning to ache from the repetitive swing he uses to cast. 

Sentry agrees, and they both sit down on the warm sand, side by side. Quill glances over his wing, as covertly as possible. Well, so much for Gust as a help for preening… If anything, the feathers are more ruffled than they were before. Looking back up, he realises Sentry’s purple eyes are on him - he must not have been as subtle as he’d hoped to be.

“Quill? Could I… would you like me to help with your feathers?” Sentry asks, hesitant. “Or… I’m sorry, is that rude or strange for your people? There weren’t any aarakocra back in Solwynn…”

“It - no - no, it’s quite usual for us, friends and family help each other preen pretty often,” Quill says, trying to decide what to answer. 

“Well, we’re friends, right?” 

_Yes, but it’s different _ , part of Quill wants to say. _ You’re not an aarakocra, you don’t have feathers I could help you with in return _… that would be a justification, but not a fair one to Sentry, not even a true one, he suspects, deep down. It’s not about whether he could repay the help, it’s about not wanting to need it. But he has to do something about his feathers, they’re irritating, and he doesn’t think he can do it alone.

“Yes, we are,” he finally says, swallowing his pride. “I… yes, please, help me.” 

“What do I do? Just smooth them out?”

“Yes… look, like this.” Lifting his wing, he tugs on some of the pinions he can reach easily with his beak, aligning them, then extends his wing towards her. “Usually you start from the ones nearest the back, and work outwards, it’s easier that way.”

Carefully, Sentry starts working through his feathers as he indicated, her strong fingers surprisingly gentle. And Quill had thought he’d missed dust baths! Despite how different Sentry’s wood-and-metal hands are to his own people’s talons, this brings back so many memories… his mother stopping him on his way out in the mornings to tug some errant feathers straight… showing his brothers how to settle a Guild tunic so it wouldn’t ruffle their plumage… long, sun-drenched summer afternoons, sitting in lazy circles with other youngsters, so that everyone was helping someone else… 

“Am I doing it right?” Sentry asks, bringing him back to the present.

He blinks rapidly and nods, grateful she spoke. That’s gone, that’s all gone, he’s not going back, his mind is made up on that. All those memories can do is hurt him. “Yes, that’s perfect, thank you. I - I wish I could… Is there anything I can do for you?”

Sentry thinks for a moment. She feels like Quill already does so much for her, helping her navigate this new Aerois, but she knows he wouldn’t be satisfied with that as an answer. It should be something more… tangible, more personal. 

“I remember… you know I used to look after the princess, in Solwynn?” She finally says, voice quiet. “She always liked me to comb her hair, even when she was more than old enough to do it herself, she said I did it better than anyone. And she used to check my vines, pick off any flowers that were wilting so new ones could grow.”

“I can do that… If you’d like me to?” Quill double-checks, and Sentry nods, giving him a soft smile. 

“We’ll take care of each other.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think it's been firmly established in canon how long after the accident Quill met Sentry, I've assumed here it was pretty soon after. My (admittedly brief) reading about preening in birds suggested it's social for some species, and that worked best here, so I went with it! I also figure neither guardians nor aarakocra would have many (or any) taboos about social nudity, what with guardians being basically robots (plus Sentry's tabard in the official art looks far more identfying/decorative than functional), and aarakocra having feathers.


End file.
